


gonna paint this town

by military_bluebells



Category: Generation Kill
Genre: Alternate Universe - High School, Brad and Ray are Graffiti Ninjas, Established Relationship, Fluff, Graffiti, M/M, Parkour, Vandalism
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-06-25
Updated: 2020-06-25
Packaged: 2021-03-04 00:21:14
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,632
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24914542
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/military_bluebells/pseuds/military_bluebells
Summary: “Ray, what are you doing on my doorstep at 2 am?” he calls, keeping his volume as low as possible.“My ma said that if I was going to break the law then you have to be with me.”Brad sighs, “Which law are we breaking?”
Relationships: Brad Colbert/Ray Person
Kudos: 31





	gonna paint this town

**Author's Note:**

> I'm finding that I can't write short things without having ideas for a long fic in the same universe, so this may end up as a prequel at some point.

Brad sighs deeply as another rock bounces off his bedroom window. 

He knows it’s Ray because Ray is the only idiot that would be out at - Brad glances to his alarm clock - 2:03 and dare to wake him up too. He twists away from the window, but the rocks keep coming; he’s almost impressed Ray hasn’t give up yet. Whatever he wants must be important then because after the last time he’d woken Brad up in the middle of the night, Brad had sworn he would rip Ray’s balls off and feed them to him if he did it again. 

Brad rubs his eyes and kicks off his sheets, sitting up to look out of the window. Ray waves like an idiot, grinning with all his fuck-up teeth. Brad unlocks the window, slides it up, and leans his forearms on the sill. Cool air brushes against his bare skin but he doesn’t shiver. 

“Ray, what are you doing on my doorstep at 2 am?” he calls, keeping his volume as low as possible. 

“My ma said that if I was going to break the law then you have to be with me.” 

Brad sighs, “Which law are we breaking?” 

“Laws,” Ray corrects, holding a bottle of what is definitely alcohol and a backpack. Brad narrows his eyes on the backpack, which could hold just about anything because it’s Ray. “so, get dressed loser, we’re doing crime.” 

“That’s not the quote.” Brad says as he shuts the window, cutting off Ray’s laughter. He hates that Ray made him sit through _Mean Girl_ , but he should at least quote it correctly. 

He grabs a plain, dark t-shirt, his black jacket and swaps his sleeping short for a pair of black jeans, finding his running shoes under his bed and his phone. He leaves his wallet: he doesn’t need a cop to find his fake ID as well as bust them for whatever laws they’re breaking. 

He’s perfected the art of slipping out of the house by now, so it doesn’t take him long to unlock the backdoor and join Ray outside. The night is dark – the moon obscured by clouds, good lack of visibility for whatever they're doing – and fresh. He breathes in a lungful of the sharp air before turning to Ray, who is leaning against the porch fence, hands in ripped black jeans. 

“Catch.” Ray says, throwing something black to him. Brad grabs it out of the air and snorts. 

“A beanie?” 

“What? Your blond ass hair is begging to be seen.” Ray says, pushing off the fence and jumping down to the ground. Brad shakes his head and slips the beanie over his head, covering his hair and ears. 

Ray had one of his stupid caps on, backwards like always and Brad itches to make a comment about it, but they have to get out of the backyard first. He follows Ray to the gate and watches him spring from their wooden fence and speed vault over the top of the gate. Brad just runs up the gate and vaults over the top, because he isn't a midget. 

“So, what laws?” Brad asks as they walk down his street towards the city centre. 

“Well, first off, underage drink.” Ray grins to him, “though that comes after we finish our vandalism.” 

Brad nods, handing out his hand. Ray passes him the piece of paper with his plan and the building they’re hitting. Unsurprisingly, the target is the new ‘youth’ centre. The picture is simple, the words ‘Bravo 2’ above ‘Stay Frosty’ written across the piece of paper in their usual graffiti font, surrounded by Ray’s chicken scratch notes of letters and numbers that correspond to spray paint cans. 

“So, does the Iceman approve?” 

Brad nods and hands the piece of paper back, “Any reason why now?” 

Ray shrugs, “I thought it’d be good to remind people that we’re not gone, and we’re not done, that Godfather’s won one battle not the war.” 

Brad smirks, “I wasn’t aware you were capable of thinking that deeply Ray.” 

“Fuck off.” Ray says, shoving Brad down an alleyway. The new ‘youth’ centre Godfather commissioned was supposed to replace Patterson’s outreach projects, but for months there’d been rumours about a coming crackdown on young offenders, of which many of Alpha, Bravo and Charlie were. Brad and Ray had done a lot of research both legally and ‘illegally’ about Godfather’s plans and something about the ‘New Lives’ program was off. 

They walk for a little longer before Ray glances around, pushing Brad an alleyway. He changes it before he nods, lifting his infinity scarf up over his mouth and nose and passing one to Brad. He usually wears his ridiculous pimp shades but with the moonless night and what they were doing, he's opted out. Brad's eyes are thankful. Brad mirrors him, lifting up the one Ray’d given him. It smells like motor oil and apple laundry soap and he closed his eyes for a second to take it in. 

Ray waves his arm and Brad rolls his eyes, reaching up to pull the fire escape stairs down. He follows Ray up the two floors up to the building’s flat roof. The ‘youth’ centre is three buildings down the street from here, so they jog across the rooftop and clear the two foot wide gap to the second building. The next gap is larger so Brad pulls back, putting some distance between him and Ray. He watches Ray pick up the pace into a sprint to get the speed he need to cat leap onto the fire escape on the opposite building. Brad follows once Ray's over the railings. It's child’s play for them by now, with years of practise behind their belts. They climb the next set of stairs to the building’s roof and jog to the edge that faces the ‘youth’ centre’s east side. 

“What’s the plan?” Brad asks, crouching to scour the street below them for any security Godfather might have put in place. 

“South side, I’ve got the rope and clips to rappel from the roof.” 

Brad nods and watches Ray backtrack to get a running start. He pitches himself over the lip of the roof and down onto the ‘youth’ centre’s roof, tucking and rolling on his landing. Brad paces back as far as he needs and completes the jump down. 

“Catch.” Ray says, once he's standing again, throwing him a clip and set of ropes. 

Together they attach the ropes to a large pipe that curls up off the roof and back down into the building. Ray passes him his harness and they strap up. 

“You’re normally talking my ear off by now.” Brad says as Ray spills the rest of the contents of his backpack onto the roof, grouping the cans in some sort of order. 

“Well, Bradley, we’re doing something illegal, so I thought quiet would be the Iceman’s preference.” 

Brad snorts, “I highly doubt you took my preference into account. What’s wrong?” 

Ray looks at him over the edge of his mask; it's easy to read his eyes, even as dark as the night is. _Drop it Brad_. Brad rolls his eyes but leaves it, “I’ll get it out of you by the end of the night.” 

Ray snorts behind his mask and picks up a medium shade of green. When they’d made their tag, a lot of colour schemes had been thrown around – the only one he can remember was Ray’s neon pink idea – until one of them had floated the idea of camouflage. Even Poke – who’d argue that the military was a creation of the White Man – had relented and agreed that it served their purpose. 

Brad catches the can Ray throws to him and picks up the rest of green shades and clips them to his harness. 

“I’m doing Bravo 2 then.” Brad says as Ray picks up the shades of blue. 

“Yep, don’t fuck it up, this has to look good.” 

Brad rolls his eyes and joins Ray on the edge of the ‘youth’ centre. He tests the tension of the ropes before leaning back over the edge. Ray goes first, rappelling just past halfway down the centre and Brad stops a good couple of feet above him. 

They get to work, hanging from the ropes. Brad sketches Bravo 2 out in the middle green shade, before filling the shape in. He glances down to where Ray has sketched out Stay and is working on the Frosty in a soft shade of blue. They stay silent as they work, both not to alert anyone to their presence and to be aware of any police or security that may turn up anyway. He takes the lighter and darker shades of green and works the camouflage pattern into the letters. He does it big because otherwise it's more time-consuming and really the only person who's going to complain is Ray. He finishes before him – Bravo 2 now spread across the wall – and he hangs by his harness for minute, watching Ray move around the wall with a spray paint can in his hand. Brad has told him again and again that he can do better things with his art skills than tagging buildings but whenever he says it, his stomach twists. 

It’s just as Ray finishes that Brad spots a security guard turning the corner at the bottom of the building. He waits, hoping that the guard will keep his eyes to the ground but no such luck for them tonight, as the guard looks up and their cover is blown 

“Ray.” Brad warns, grabbing his rope to pull himself up. He races to the top of the ‘youth’ centre and unhooks himself, packing their shit as quickly as possible. Ray throws himself over the side a couple of seconds later, unbuckling himself, and throwing his harness and cans to Brad. 

“Hey!” 

Ray’s eyes widen in the dark as a beam of light shines up the wall and into the sky. “Shit, shit, shit.” Ray chants with each step as they run across the roof. Brad reaches the edge first, vaulting onto the next roof. He hears the soft thump of Ray behind him and guides him across to the north. They can’t go back the way they came, at least not until they're out of sight. There’s a shout but Brad has little doubt that the security won’t be able to keep up with them. 

He plots a route in his head as skip over a fence that crosses across their path, because if they’re not carefully, they’ll end up on the opposite side of the town like last time, and he’d like to get _some_ sleep tonight. He shimmies down a drainpipe onto a lower storey building and runs across its roof to hop onto the next building. He takes them easts, jumps another short gap, vaulting over the air condition units on the rooftop. He can feel Ray behind his shoulder, and it calms him more than the silence. They hop from the building’s roof down to a joining sublevel and then down onto a dumpster and onto the cold concrete ground. 

Brad keeps his pace submaximal, because Ray has short fucking legs and takes them down the street and off down a side street, jumping the set of stairs at the mouth. They run for some time, through winding side street, alleys and underpasses. 

“Fuck, can’t run anymore.” Ray pants, coming to a stop in the passage that leans to Heart Attack square. They’re still a way away from his suburban neighbourhood, and even further from Ray’s shit hole, but Brad slows and stops, because he can hear Ray panting. 

“You need to run more laps in gym.” 

Ray looks from where he’s bent over his knees, “Fuck you, I run the same number of laps as you do.” 

“At half the pace.” 

“Well, we’re not all giant freaks like you, seriously you’re seventeen, you shouldn’t be this fit, you’re a mutant.” 

Brad smirks, reaching up to grab the first set of stair of a fire escape, “Perhaps if you stopped smoking and eating whatever sugar-filled, deep fried shit your mother gives you to put in microwave, you might be able to walk from your bed to your couch without getting winded.” 

Ray rolls his eyes and stumbles up the fire escape: they’ll be seen on the ground. He stops on the third level and sits down against the brick wall. Brad joins him and takes the offered bottle of the piss water Ray calls alcohol. It's lemon vodka so Ray had at least taken his taste into account, even if it's shit compared to proper vodka. 

“Not a bad night’s work if I don’t say so myself,” Ray says as he takes a swings from the bottle when Brad passes it back. 

Brad rolls his eyes, “Don’t get cocky Ray, that was closer than it should have been.” 

Ray groans and flops into Brad’s lap, “Moan, moan, moan, and you say I talk too much. Don’t you ever get sore from that 2 by 4 up your ass?” Brad stares down at Ray and chugs the last of the bottle - because Ray never brings full bottles - and puts it back in Ray’s backpack. 

Ray laughs, “Clean freak.” 

“I’m environmentally aware Ray, didn’t you listen to Rudy’s speech, mother nature needs our help to recover from her trauma.” 

Ray snorts, “I can’t believe that guy used to get into fist fights every other week, he’s such a fruitcake.” 

“Looks can be deceiving Ray.” Brad chimes as he takes Ray’s stupid cap off and buries his hand into the brown strands. 

“Right, I mean we don’t look like of cocksuckers.” 

Brad huffs, “I don’t ram them down my throat like you and your mother Ray.” 

Ray rolls his eyes and sits up, his face inches from Brad’s “Don’t pretend you have taste, you sucked my cock last weekend.” 

Brad hums and tightens his grip on Ray’s hair and Ray takes it, craning his neck back into the pull. He grins crookedly and Brad decides he doesn't want him to talk anymore. 

Ray moans into his mouth and opens his mouth for Brad’s tongue, his hand cupping Brad’s jaw. Brad allows it for a minute or so as they swap spit, the sharp taste of alcohol and lemons on their tongues until he starts to run out of oxygen. They stay close, trading short kisses and bites on the lips, their noses brushing against each other when they change angles. 

Brad kisses his way along Ray's jaw as Ray gropes at his ass and leans to whisper in Ray’s ear, “We have a math test tomorrow.” before pulling away and slipping around Ray to the stairs of the fire escape, adjusting himself as he goes. 

Ray groans dramatically, “Homes, you’re such a fucking cock tease!” 

* * *

Brad grimaces at the quadratic equation in front of him and rubs at his eyes for the third time in five minutes. He glances across the aisle to look at Ray, who yawns but still continues to scribble on his paper. It's unfair because Ray knows jack shit about math. He catches Brad’s eye and makes a kissy face at his scowl. Brad rolls his eyes and turns back to his paper, to where the numbers blur in front of him. He yawns and curses Ray in his head and out loud for the rest of the day. 

The only consolation is when Brad turns on the TV after school, photos of their tag on the ‘youth centre’ are plastered across the new stations and Godfather has had to publicly postpone the opening ceremony until Sunday afternoon. 

Brad smirks and posts the link on the Bravo Two group chat.

**Author's Note:**

> Prompt Credit: https://write-it-motherfuckers.tumblr.com/post/190776891437/person-a-what-are-you-doing-on-my-doorstep-at-2  
> Person A: “What are you doing on my doorstep at 2 am?”  
> Person B: “My mum said that if i was going to break the law then you have to be with me.”  
> Person A: *sigh* “Which law are we breaking?”


End file.
